


Push and Pull

by Amilyn



Category: Farscape
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Grief
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-06-22
Updated: 2008-06-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 23:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amilyn/pseuds/Amilyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Aeryn, fighting, loving, pushing, tiptoeing around each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breaking Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Spilleta42, who requested Aeryn Sun and rescue.

Breaking Out  
by Amy L. Hull amilynh at comcast dot net

***

Two doors blasted, four guards killed, eight locking mechanisms fried shut and an uncounted number of shots ducked and avoided. In the cell block there were alarms and system shutdowns to defeat.

Through her boots' thick soles, she could feel D'Argo and Chiana's explosions shuddering through the ship and the faltering of the engines.

She slammed her hand against the last cell door panel. It slid aside, revealing John sitting with his back against the wall.

She glared. "What, you couldn't at least _try_ to escape?"

He moved quickly as she covered their retreat. "I get hurt less this way."

***  
***


	2. Savoring Earth

Savoring Earth  
by Amy L. Hull amilynh at comcast dot net

***

After their first visit to real earth Aeryn occasionally finds cubes nestled in brown, crinkly paper.

There is only ever one: on the console of her prowler, on her bed, on her punching bag.

One tastes like piss, another like the rarest sweet yazzaberries, another like the salt tang of sex.

The "mint" Chak-lat most intrigues her; it is smooth and biting, cool and oppressive, with a lingering scent and flavor that taunts her, makes her unsure whether she wants more.

The seventh cube, at her repair station, is darker than the others, melts on her tongue, tastes like Crichton.

***  
***


	3. No One Ever Told Me That Grief Felt So Much Like Fear

No One Ever Told Me That Grief Felt So Much Like Fear  
by Amy L. Hull amilynh at comcast dot net

***

Aeryn sat ramrod straight, teeth clenched. Feelings were to be denied, buried. She'd learned that as a child after her first beating for crying.

"You watched him die," John whispered into her hair. His chest was too warm against her and roughened hands stroked her arms, firm and gentle. "It's all right to grieve for the other me."

She stared at the black symbols on the page under her palm until he twined his fingers with hers.

Her control, tight and brittle, uncoiled as his scent, tangy and muddy, filled her nostrils and stung the moist corners of her eyes.

***  
***


End file.
